


Survival of the Fittest

by cathybites



Category: Lost, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-21
Updated: 2011-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathybites/pseuds/cathybites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>by the by, I figure this is part of the same 'verse as <a href="http://cathybites.livejournal.com/515370.html?thread=3532074#t3532074">this little ficlet</a>, probably about ten years after. never did get around to making a proper fic out of that one, which is a shame because I do like it a lot.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Survival of the Fittest

**Author's Note:**

> by the by, I figure this is part of the same 'verse as [this little ficlet](http://cathybites.livejournal.com/515370.html?thread=3532074#t3532074), probably about ten years after. never did get around to making a proper fic out of that one, which is a shame because I do like it a lot.

Sawyer bites off a curse as he watches some pretty boy angle his way around the pool table. The locals are too piss-drunk to realize what the kid is, but Sawyer recognizes the moves, the practiced smiles, the calculating glances. Figures, don't it, that the first time he gets an itch to hustle some pool in lord knows how many years, some punkass kid beats him to it.

He sighs and resigns himself to just cooling his heels for the night. Last job nearly cost him his neck; it'll do him good to just enjoy life for a spell. Especially considering he's got about ten-grand sitting pretty in a brand new account, just waiting for him to spend it all up. He signals to the waitress, orders a beer, and leans back to watch the kid at work.

It's not like he plans on watching the kid hustle all night, but that's what ends up happening. Last call rolls around and there's six empty bottles on his table and the waitress's number on a scrap of paper in his wallet, yet Sawyer can't take his eyes off the kid. He's got no real finesse - if this were anywhere other than some backwater honkytonk, he'd've been sniffed out as a shark long ago - but he's got this energy to him, all power and grace as he plays, a thing of raw beauty.

 _Shit_ , Sawyer thinks, blinking wearily, _I must be drunker than I thought_. He stands up and pulls a few bucks out for a tip. When he glances back up, the kid is watching him, that damn pretty mouth curled up to one side. It's partly a challenge, partly an invitation and, hell. It's not like Sawyer's one to turn down a hot piece of ass, and this an opportunity too good to pass on. Sawyer narrows his eyes, then gives the slightest tilt of his head toward the exit. The kid nods and Sawyer heads outside.

Sawyer's not out there for more than a minute before the kid comes out. He looks around and Sawyer grabs his arm, dragging him to the dark side of the building before shoving him against the wall.

"What the fuck, dude?" the kid hisses. Sawyer leans close, all moist lips and hot breath against the kid's ear.

"Keep quiet, Sodapop," he whispers, grinning as the kid shudders against him. "They don't take too kindly to what I'm about to do around here."

"And what's that?" The kid's got spitfire to him and, yeah, that turns Sawyer's crank in some mighty fine ways.

One hand drops to rub against the hard line of the kid's dick through his jeans. He bites down on his lip to keep in the moan and Sawyer licks up the side of his jaw before leaning in to say, "Get my dick sucked by you."

The kid jerks away, eyes flashing, but when Sawyer pushes down on his shoulders, he folds easily, hands scrambling to open up Sawyer's jeans. Sawyer braces one arm on the wall; with the other, he grabs a hold of his cock and guides it to the kid's mouth. He opens up with a quiet moan and, god _damn_ , Sawyer knew those lips were just made for this.

It's quick and sloppy, with the kid sucking down Sawyer's cock like he'd die otherwise. He palms the back of the kid's head and pushes in all the way, thighs shaking as the kid chokes on his cockhead. He eases back, then does it again, and again before he comes with a harsh gasp.

He pulls out and the kid leans back against the wall, coughing harshly, mouth swollen and shiny, eyes glassy and, shit. If Sawyer were about ten years younger, he'd be raring to go again just at the sight. As it is, he just hauls the kid up to his feet and shoves his hand down the kid's pants.

"Holy fuck," the kid spits out, head slamming back as Sawyer jerks him off.

"You wanna keep it down, Freckles?" The music inside should be loud enough to keep them from being heard, but Sawyer would rather not take any chances.

"Dean, m'name's Dean," the kid gets out somehow. Sawyer twists his hand around and rubs his thumb over the wet head of the kid's cock.

"That's great, Dean-o. You can call me--"

"God!"

Sawyer pauses, then shrugs, grinning sharp and wide. "If you insist." His wrist starts to cramp, so he tightens his hold and speeds it up; it's only a few more strokes before the kid is coming hard, hot and wet into Sawyer's palm. He gives a few more tugs, wrenching the orgasm out of the kid, then he lets go, patting the kid down and wiping his hand on the wall.

"I'd love to chat, really," Sawyer says, taking a step back, "but I need to get goin'." The kid - Dean - stares at him blankly for a moment before blinking and nodding.

"Yeah...yeah, sure," he says, voice all rough and tumble and, _damn_. Sawyer considers it, thinks about taking him back to the motel room and fucking that tight little ass raw until the sun comes up. It's damn tempting, and the way Dean looks at him tells Sawyer that he'd be up for it, but Sawyer's always been a man about priorites, and now that he's gotten off, they don't include the kid. So he just winks and gives Dean a little salute, turning on his heel to head to his car.

He figures he's got about fifteen minutes to be as far away as he can before Dean realizes that all that money he made hustlin' pool was sitting nice and cozy in Sawyer's back pocket. He'd feel bad about it but, hell, kid's gotta learn: it's a shark-eat-shark world out there.


End file.
